


Togetherness (Boys Will Be Boys)

by soulless_lover



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Camping, Gen, Holy shit it's a bear, Poor Scott, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Remy's accent is fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:43:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulless_lover/pseuds/soulless_lover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott Summers knew all about togetherness.  He knew the meaning of teamwork, of <i>leadership</i>, the importance of a group working as one towards a common cause... which was precisely why he was so vastly annoyed that Professor Xavier had put <i>Logan</i> in charge of the damn camping trip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Early 90's-era X-Men fic, except I threw in 15-year-old Ultimateverse!Bobby, because he's fun.</p>
<p>Written back in 2006.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Togetherness (Boys Will Be Boys)

Scott Summers knew all about togetherness. He knew the meaning of teamwork, of _leadership_ , the importance of a group working as one towards a common cause.

Which was precisely why he was so vastly annoyed that Professor Xavier had put _Logan_ in charge of the damn camping trip.

Of course, Logan was the veteran camper of the team, and his survival skills were impeccable; but the man was the quintessential loner, with no regard for teamwork or leadership or _anything_ other than doing what had to be done. 

"It'll do him good to lead this expedition," Xavier had said in that calm, cool, collected way that told Scott he'd never win the discussion. "Logan needs to know he's a valued member of the team, and it will help to instill a sense of togetherness."

"But, Professor..."

"I have made my decision, Scott."

And so Scott had backed down and accepted the role of sub-commander - for just this _one_ trip. 

Professor Xavier: 1. Cyclops: zip.

And of _course_ , Logan being the outdoorsy type he was, he'd just _had_ to pick some remote spot out in WhereverTheHell National Forest to do this camping thing, despite Scott's not-so-subtle suggestion that a proper outpost with cabins and running water and electricity would be much more comfortable. Nearly the entire team _was_ coming, after all, and cramming ten people into lodgings for a weekend would be _much_ easier with cabins and bunkbeds instead of tents and sleeping bags.

Logan had just grinned at him and told him to make sure his sleeping bag was waterproof, in case it rained.

Scott hadn't said a word the entire trip down, despite Jean's cheerful attempts to strike up a conversation; things got even worse when the group started to set up camp, and Logan announced there would be only _two_ tents - he, Scott, Hank, Bobby, and Remy in one, Jean, Rogue, Storm, Betsy, and Jubilee in the other. Although the tents were large enough to accomodate six or seven people comfortably, Scott had drawn the line at having to share sleeping space with the hairy little pain in his ass; he'd pulled an extra two-person tent from the Blackbird's storage compartment, and blithely explained that he and Jean were going to sleep in it.

Logan's brows had first shot up, then knitted together angrily like a badly crocheted doily. "Look, Summers, the Prof put _me_ in charge o' this thing, and I'm tellin' ya--"

"Too bad," Scott had answered. " _You_ can sleep in the other tent, and Jean and I will sleep in _this_ one."

Logan's eyes had narrowed dangerously and his teeth gritted a little tighter around the stub of cigar in his mouth. "Ain't happenin'."

"Wanna bet?" Calm. Confident. In charge, despite the Professor's plans.

At least, that's how he'd felt until Jean stepped out of the crowd gathering around the two men and put a stop to it. 

Ever reasonable, she'd sided with _Logan_ , and had insisted on sleeping in the group tent with the other girls in the interest of togetherness, and of respecting Xavier's decision to put Logan in charge. While Scott stood there and gaped at her, in complete and utter shock that she hadn't sided with _him_ , her own _husband_ , Logan grinned maddeningly and walked off, calling out instructions to put this tent here and that camp stove there, and so on. Argument over, game, set, match.

Wolverine: 1. Cyclops: _still_ zip.

Scott had pitched the tent anyway and was lying in it alone, seething, and had come to a very frustrating conclusion: he had to go to the bathroom. _Really_ had to go, and not just to go pee; he could've done that behind a tree, if he really needed to. _This_ was something that required sitting down and toilet paper, and he'd only just realized he had _no_ idea where the Logan-designated crapping spot was. He'd been holding it for almost an hour, and was half tempted to just go off into the bushes and do his business any old where, but he knew that Logan would smell it and give him a hassle, which he really didn't need.

He figured the official lavatory bush - or whatever it happened to be - would be a good distance from the campsite, because Logan's sensitive nose was just _so_ damn good at smelling stuff nobody else's could, and he'd have to have everything far away and downwind. Scott knew he was probably in for a lengthy walk, and he didn't know the terrain at all. Plus, it was almost midnight and dark as hell besides. He could ask one of the other X-Men where he was supposed to go, but the idea of making himself look even worse in front of the team did _not_ appeal. He'd just have to ask the - he scowled - _group leader_ what to do. 

He was going to have to get Logan to show him where to go.

The idea infuriated him - he'd been steadfastly ignoring the man all afternoon, and hadn't even looked in his general direction during dinner. Now he was going to have to bite the bullet, go over to the guys' tent, and ask Logan to lead him to the lavatory. He sighed. What he wouldn't give for a nice white-tiled bathroom and some running water.

He emerged from the tent to see Rogue, Jean, and Jubilee roasting marshmallows over the campfire; Jean greeted him cautiously, but he ignored her. He was just going to do this _one_ thing, and then it was back to being the ousted leader.

He approached the blue-and-white tent with some trepidation; inside, the camping lantern was brightly lit, and he could make out a fuzzy, hunkered-down lump of a shadow that was probably Hank, next to a smaller shape that appeared to be holding up a magazine or something. That would probably be Bobby. Off to the right, a slim, wild-haired shadow sat, reaching down to the floor in front of him occasionally - most likely Remy, playing cards. And there, closest to the tent flap, the unmistakable shape of Logan: short, squat, broad as a barn door, Stetson hat with hair sticking out from under it in pointed tufts. He sighed again and walked up to the flap; it didn't feel right to just walk on in, as he wasn't officially sleeping in there, but the usual method of getting a door opened to him - knocking - wasn't an option. Why didn't the tent manufacturing people put a piece of wood or plastic or some other hard material next to the flap so visitors could _knock_ , dammit! 

He finally settled for asking quietly: "Logan?"

The broad, Stetson-headed shadow got up and unzipped the flap. "Whattaya want, Summers?" The tone was gruff, but not unkind, so Scott clenched his fists and blundered on.

"I, uh, I need your help."

Logan gave him that face that clearly said he'd be giving Scott the finger if he wasn't so curious as to what the hell was going on. "That so."

"Uh... yeah. I need to, uh, use the... facilities."

The smaller man looked perplexed for a minute, then blinked in realization. "Oh. There's an outhouse over the hill, that way." He jabbed a thick finger at the dark, forboding woods outside the ring of light from the campfire.

Scott clenched his fists tighter and prayed his ears weren't turning red. "Well, you're going to have to come with me. I don't know the area, it's dark, and..." He paused, trying to come up with a clincher. " _And_ , it's not safe for anyone to leave camp without backup. There are _bears_ out here, you know." He folded his arms with as much dignity as he could muster, and waited for a response.

" _Qu'est-ce que c'est?_ " Remy asked, looking up from his game of Solitaire.

"Ah, it's nothin'," Logan said, turning to look at the Cajun, and Scott was about to think well of the man for keeping mum about the situation until he added, "Cyke here's jus' gotta take a dump and needs me t' play Indian guide and lead him t' the potty."

"I'll go, too!" Iceman jumped up, comic book forgotten in favor of a walkabout in the dark, which was much more interesting. "I was getting bored."

"Uh, that's okay, Bobby," Scott started, looking less and less comfortable. "I really don't think--"

"I t'ink I go along, _aussi_ ," Gambit announced, stood up, and stretched. " _Homme_ gotta have a smoke sometime, neh?"

"Really, I just--"

Hank gave Scott a sympathetic look. "I think I'll stay here and read."

Scott could've hugged the big blue furball. Good old Hank.

The four men trooped out through the pitch-black night, Logan leading the way with Bobby chattering beside him, Scott in the middle, looking left and right for bears, wolves, coyotes, mountain lions, rocks, and anything else that might jump out and make him lose his bowel control, and Remy tagging along behind, smoking a cigarette and humming idly. They went through a dense patch of woods... or two... or four... and climbed a steep hill, and down at the bottom on the other side was a small wooden outhouse, looking like it had just come off the set of a spaghetti western, all lopsided and rickety.

"There ya go, Cyke," Logan said, and gestured grandly to it like he was Vanna White or something. "Have yerself a field day."

Scott stepped into the cramped little building and shut the door on the grinning faces behind him; looking around, he discovered he did _not_ like having to use this facility at all. It stunk, for one thing, and for another, the seat was just a board with a hole cut into it - he had a horrid mental image of getting splinters in very uncomfortable places, and was wondering if Logan hadn't led him out here to freak him out on purpose. Maybe there was a perfectly decent toilet somewhere else, and the sawed-off little fireplug had just brought him to this nasty shack to fuck with him. Well, screw Logan, and screw being taken down yet _another_ notch! He'd use this stupid board that passed for a toilet, and he'd be a man about it, and Logan could just stuff his pissy attitude up his hairy ass.

Scott undid his belt, got his shorts and BVDs down, and sat, listening to the low mumble of the guys bullshitting quietly amongst themselves as they waited.

He hadn't been sitting on that board for thirty seconds when he heard Gambit gasp, "Ah! _Mon dieu_!"

Then Bobby's voice, high-pitched and terrified: "Holy shit, it's a _bear_!!"

There was the sound of rustling leaves and snapping twigs, as of someone crashing off through the woods, then Logan's deep voice rang out: "Kid! Kid, wait! She might have cubs hidden over there! Bobby!! _Shit!_ "

More crashy forest noises, presumably Logan going after Bobby.

Then there was the distinct humming sound of one of Remy's kinetically charged cards, and a boom. _"Merde!"_

More rustling and snapping twigs, and then nothing.

Scott was alone in a poop-shanty with a bear outside, it was so dark he couldn't see his hand in front of his face, and the others had run off. He had no idea what the hell to do. He sat and listened for a minute, straining to hear if there were any bear-like noises outside, but he couldn't hear anything except silence and crickets; he wished he had Logan's keen senses so he could better discern his surroundings.

He listened.

Silence.

There was a loud thump on the side of the outhouse, just to his left, and he jumped, fingernails digging into his bare thighs; there was another, rather louder than the first, then a deep, warning growl, and then the thumps turned into bangs, and the little shack was starting to rock. Scott leapt to his feet and hiked his shorts up as fast as he could, hands fumbling in the dark, and somehow he managed to get his belt fastened; the outhouse was listing rather violently, and he had to put his hands out to brace himself on either side to keep from falling over. The growling got louder; images of every _Wild Kingdom_ show involving grizzly bears that Scott had ever seen - usually on Animal Planet at three in the morning when he couldn't sleep but Jean could - flashed through his mind: huge ten-foot bears rocking cars to get to the occupants, grizzlies attacking cameramen, etcetera...

He had to get out of there. He pushed on the door - but it wouldn't budge. He pushed harder. Nothing. The outhouse was rocking so much he was afraid it was going to fall apart, and the growling was so loud it reverberated throughout the tiny space. He threw all his weight on the door, and _still_ it wouldn't move an inch. He considered his options quickly: if he took his glasses off and blasted the door, he might hit anyone or anything that was out there, including one of the team, or a bear cub. He didn't want to kill the bear, just in case it _did_ have cubs - he didn't think he could live with himself if he orphaned some poor baby creature. But, if he didn't get out of the outhouse, he was pretty much a goner. What if the bear should knock the whole building over and climb over top of it? He'd be crushed under eight hundred pounds of grizzly, face-down in shit, and what a way to die. 

Decision made, he whipped off his ruby-quartz glasses and fired a crimson beam straight ahead, blowing the door off its rusty hinges, and charged out, prepared for a bear, a fight, an all-out disaster.... _anything_ other than what he actually saw.

His three companions were standing less than ten feet away, all doubled over and clutching their midsections; for a second, Scott thought they'd all been slashed across the stomach by bear claws... but he didn't see any blood. Also, they were convulsing violently, like they were having seizures, and then it clicked: they were _laughing_ at him.

Scott glanced down at the remnants of the outhouse door, and it - he turned to look - along with the entire front of said outhouse, was covered with a two-inch-thick layer of ice. No wonder he couldn't get the damn thing open. "The door...? You...?" He looked up at Bobby, who was laughing so hard he was crying, the tears freezing on his face and falling into the grass with soft _plop_ s. "You froze the door shut!"

Bobby only laughed harder.

"And- and the growling!" Scott rounded on Logan, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "That was _you_!"

"Got it in one," Logan said, big hairy shoulders shaking with laughter. 

"Knew dere was a reason he's de leader, _non_?" Remy choked through a hearty belly laugh, and slapped Wolverine on the back a couple times.

"You... you..." Scott boggled at them, utterly humiliated and furious. "I can't _believe_ you guys! I thought... I thought..."

The three miscreants only laughed harder and louder; Scott knew he wasn't going to get anywhere with them, so he stomped off up the hill and back to the campsite, howls of mirth ringing in his burning ears.

"Watch out for those bears, Summers!" Logan yelled after him, much to the delight of the other two. "As much shit's ya got on ya right now, they're gonna smell ya a mile away!" And Logan was right - the contents of the outhouse were pretty well sloshed over Scott's bare legs; his shoes were getting squishier as he walked, and he knew he was going to need a good wash and about twelve bars of soap.

Scott arrived back at the campsite looking livid and smelling pretty bad - which Jubilee pointed out right off. "Cheese an' crackers!" she blurted through a mouthful of s'more. "Whadja do, fall in?"

Scott stormed past the gawking girls, grabbed a towel from where it hung over a nearby tree branch, and headed for the lake. "I'm going for a swim."

Jean and Rogue shared a look, which they then shared with Jubilee. They were just about to comment on the scene when Logan, Remy, and Bobby came out of the shadows beyond the trees, guffawing and making random statements like "Did you see his _face_!?" and "Holy shit, it's a _bear_!!" The latter, shouted in a terrified gasp, produced much hilarity among the three, and the girls were starting to understand what had happened.

"I can't believe he _fell_ for it!" Bobby exclaimed as Logan unzipped the guys' tent and ushered him in. "Didn't he ever go to summer camp as a kid?"

"You kiddin'?" Logan rejoined, following Bobby and Remy in. "That man's idea of roughin' it is paper plates."

Jean blinked. "You think I should...?"

"What, go chew 'em out?" Rogue asked, jabbing a fat marshmallow onto her toasting fork. "Nah. Ah'd just as soon's leave 'em alone. They had their fun."

"Yeah," Jubilee agreed. "Boys will be boys, right? Gimme another marshmallow, will ya? I'm dyin' from lack of s'mores here."

END.


End file.
